Castle of Wizardry

Fourteen
    IT WAS THE first day of spring, and King Belgarion of Riva was terribly nervous. He had watched the approach of Princess Ce'Nedra's sixteenth birthday with a steadily mounting anxiety and, now that the day had finally arrived, he hovered on the very edge of panic. The deep blue brocade doublet over which a half dozen tailors had labored for weeks still did not seem to feel just right. Somehow it was a bit tight across the shoulders, and the stiff collar scratched his neck. Moreover, his gold crown seemed unusually heavy on this particular day, and, as he fidgeted, his throne seemed even more uncomfortable than usual.
    The Hall of the Rivan King had been decorated extensively for the occasion, but even the banners and garlands of pale spring flowers could not mask the ominous starkness of the great throne room. The assembled notables, however, chatted and laughed among themselves as if nothing significant were taking place. Garion felt rather bitter about their heartless lack of concern in the face of what was about to happen to him.
    Aunt Pol stood at the left side of his throne, garbed in a new silver gown and with a silver circlet about her hair. Belgarath lounged indolently on the right, wearing a new green doublet which had already become rumpled.
    "Don't squirm so much, dear," Aunt Pol told Garion calmly.
    "That's easy enough for you to say," Garion retorted in an accusing tone.
    "Try not to think about it," Belgarath advised. "It will all be over in a little while."
    Then Brand, his face seeming even more bleak than usual, entered the Hall from the side door and came to the dais. "There's a Nyissan at the gate of the Citadel, your Majesty," he said quietly. "He says that he's the emissary of Queen Salmissra and that he's here to witness the ceremony."
    "Isn't that impossible?" Garion asked Aunt Pol, startled by the Warder's surprising announcement.
    "Not entirely," she replied. "More likely, though, it's a diplomatic fiction. I'd imagine that the Nyissans would prefer to keep Salmissra's condition a secret."
    "What do I do?" Garion asked. Belgarath shrugged.
    "Let him in."
    "In here?" Brand's voice was shocked. "A Nyissan in the throne room? Belgarath, you're not serious."
    "Garion is Overlord of the West, Brand," the old man replied, "and that includes Nyissa. I don't imagine that the snake-people will be much use to us at any time, but let's be polite, at least."
    Brand's face went stiff with disapproval. "What is your Majesty's decision?" he asked Garion directly.
    "Well-" Garion hesitated. "Let him come in, I guess."
    "Don't vacillate, Garion," Aunt Pol told him firmly.
    "I'm sorry," Garion said quickly.
    "And don't apologize," she added. "Kings do not apologize."
    He looked at her helplessly. Then he turned back to Brand. "Tell the emissary from Nyissa to join us," he said, though his tone was placating.
    "By the way, Brand," Belgarath suggested, "I wouldn't let anyone get too excited about this. The Nyissan has ambassadorial status, and it would be a serious breach of protocol if he were to die unexpectedly."
    Brand bowed rather stiffly, turned, and left the Hall.
    "Was that really necessary, father?" Aunt Pol asked.
    "Old grudges die hard, Pol," Belgarath replied. "Sometimes it's best to get everything right out in front so that there aren't any misunderstandings later."
    When the emissary of the Snake Queen entered the Hall, Garion started with surprise. It was Sadi, the chief eunuch in Salmissra's palace. The thin man with the dead-looking eyes and shaved head wore the customary iridescent blue-green Nyissan robe, and he bowed sinuously as he approached the throne. "Greetings to his Majesty, Belgarion of Riva, from Eternal Salmissra, Queen of the Snake-People," he intoned in his peculiarly contralto voice.
    "Welcome, Sadi," Garion replied formally.
    "My queen sends her regards on this happy day," Sadi continued.
    "She didn't really, did she?" Garion asked a bit pointedly.
    "Not precisely, your Majesty," Sadi admitted without the least trace of embarrassment. "I'm sure she would have, however, if we'd been able to make her understand what was happening."
    "How is she?" Garion remembered the dreadful transformation Salmissra had undergone.
    "Difficult," Sadi answered blandly. "Of course that's nothing new. Fortunately she sleeps for a week or two after she's been fed. She moulted last month, and it made her dreadfully short-tempered." He rolled his eyes ceilingward. "It was ghastly," he